Running on Empty

I am running on empty, my zillionth lap, my own private marathon. I am running very vigorously. My knees are beginning to hurt, particularly my left knee is producing a sharp pain. Ninety-five minutes have passed and my lungs are aching, begging this Judas of a mind to stop the madness. I slow down, catching my reflection in the wall of mirrors at the gym. Slowly I turn the corner toward the water fountains, hoping to rejuvenate my fluids enough to continue onto the next phase of my workout, when I spot a friend. I wave, hoping he will pass on by, my anti-social brain is so fixated on the workout. He stops next to me. Inquisitively, he asks, “So what are you running from?” I gaze into his dark, searching eyes, and chuckle thinking to myself, if only he knew …

I suffer from bulimia. It has consumed my life for several years. Before that I was admitted to an eating disorder clinic for a brief period of time but found anorexia too challenging of a coping mechanism to uphold and hide from the outside world. Bulimia became my drug, and friend, of choice. It has been a rollercoaster ride since then. I have failed in a multitude of ways, lost and destroyed relationships by lying, hiding, rejecting help and support, and ultimately surrendering to the injustice of this disorder.

I vividly recall an acquaintance, a nutritionist in fact, that I befriended and eventually confided my addiction to. She was astonished by my confession, she said, because I seemed so strong to her. I remember feeling submerged in a tidal wave of shame, crushed with humiliation, that jagged, dull knife twisting deeper into my soul. But I am strong, I screamed silently.

I am a single mother, raising my beautiful daughter on my own, with no help and support close by. My daughter’s beauty and innocence is surreal; she is what keeps me from going over the edge. Her sweet smile and surprising wisdom propel me to take action towards recovery. Unfortunately, it has become a habit to fall back into relapse just as ardently. I am a nurturer. I need to take care of others. My desire to help and heal those around me is so fervent that I have chosen careers to fulfill that longing. I am also going for my Master’s in Counseling, specializing in, of course, eating disorders. I sit in my classes with such a strong urge to stand up and educate, advocate, on certain topics. I am obsessed with searching for the latest research, knowledge, studies, trends, in eating disorder recovery, that I feel like a fool.